


Origin of Toki

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-05
Updated: 2009-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:18:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Toki is actually the true source of Dethklok’s success?  What if Ofdensen was more the evil genius mastermind than just a manager?  And what if Toki has been dead for 200 years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origin of Toki

**Author's Note:**

> I'd only been watching for a few months at this point, so I had to invent a wizard dude for this.  
> Obviously this contains death, but he got better? So I don't feel I need to specifically warn for that. I'm only just figuring this site out...

Charles Foster Ofdensen was awaiting a very special visitor. The man, who he knew only as Darkstar, was late. Hopefully this time he’d found what was needed, that old Norwegian legend had sounded so promising. But the research... The rural village barely had records these days, and 200 years ago there was practically nothing at all to go on. Just the legends. Oh, but what a legends they were.....

Ofdensen thought of his band, Dethklok. Yes they were his, he had carefully chosen each of them, bringing them together in a way that left them suspecting nothing. And they were _good_ , but something was still missing. They just lacked that magical element that would tie the crowd to them helplessly, the thing to make their success guaranteed. The special person had to be understated, it couldn’t be obvious. The best bet would be a rhythm guitarist. Everyone would focus on the lead, leaving them open and unsuspecting to the magic he hoped to find. Ofdensen had long since ruled out anyone alive, nobody had met his requirements. He had begun searching the dead. He had found Darkstar to assist him, the odd man was some sort of sorcerer or dark priest.... Ofdensen thought it best not to know the details. But he had been well assured that if only he could find the person, Darkstar would provide the means. 

He’d found an Norwegian legend that sounded promising. Stories were still told about the mysterious power of the Reverend Aslaug Krigtann, and his only son who could captivate anyone around with his music. Massive intense research had produced much more of the story. Roughly 200 years ago, Reverend Krigtann had amassed a huge following. His son Toki would play at every service, usually the harp, and people would listen, entranced. People came from miles around, often thinking that it was the sermons that gripped them so. Every year their following grew even larger. However, there was tension mounting between the Reverend and his son, as Toki grew older and resented being used this way. But still he stayed, and played. Then Toki had fallen in love and gotten married, choosing to move far away. Without him, Reverend Krigtann’s influence was gone, and most of his followers were lost. It seemed he had no real power of his own, it had just been an illusion provided by Toki’s music. As his congregation shrunk, his bitterness grew, and people began to fear him. With his love of God poisoned by this betrayal, he blamed his son’s wife for his downfall. If it wasn’t for her, Toki would have stayed home like all good sons do. He decided to take action. He would find Toki, get rid of the wife, and bring him home to rebuild his following. 

It took 10 years of searching, for Toki had kept a very low profile. But at long last, Aslaug Krigtann and a small band of his followers stood facing his son’s home. It was a sturdy little cottage, obviously lovingly built by hand. Well, Toki had always been strong, even as a boy. Krigtann dispassionately noted his grandchildren playing in the yard, just more complications to be dealt with. That woman came out, carrying laundry to the line. Krigtann’s frown deepened at the sight of her beauty, this whore that has stolen his son away. Moments later, Toki himself came out, smiling as his children ran over and tried to climb him. He swung them into the air in turns, laughing. The sun shone on his long hair, which he’d apparently quit cutting some time ago.

Suddenly Toki seemed to sense something, and turned to face the road. There in the shadows stood his father. His heart sank, dreading the confrontation that was coming. The Reverend Krigtann motioned behind him, and a band of men moved up to join him. Together they all began to approach the cabin. Toki worriedly called for his wife to take the kids inside and lock the door. Then he braced himself to meet the men, although it would hardly be an even fight.

They converged on him. He fought bravely and well, but there were just too many and soon they overpowered him, then bound him securely. It didn’t take them very long to break down the cabin door and drag out the rest of the family. Toki, still struggling to get free, could only watch in horror and his wife and children were brutally slain before him. Then, in his anguish he broke, sagging in the iron grips of his father’s men. Aslaug Krigtann approached his son. Dragging his head up by the hair, he stared into his eyes. Toki’s eyes had gone blank, he really wasn’t seeing anything at all at this point. The Reverend stared in disgust, knowing he would be no use to him like this. Shaking his head sadly, he gave the order to his men for Toki to be killed as well.

 

Darkstar had warned him that resurrecting this long dead musician would not be without problems, but Ofdensen felt it was worth the risk. Apparently it was nearly impossible to simply restore someone, for they were often little more than zombie-like figures. But if the parents could be located and restored first, then they could be used to work a much more powerful spell. Toki’s parents had outlived him by many years and died of old age, but the location of their graves had been found. Ofdensen gave orders for them to be quietly exhumed. Then, leaving his four band members alone with the security, he traveled to Norway to witness. 

In deference to the legends, and to maintain the secrecy of this act, Ofdensen thought it would be best to change the names or his resurrected chosen ones. The Reverend Aslaug Krigtann was still whispered about, usually in stories to scare children. Toki Krigtann was also a legend, a fairy tale. Someone might make the connection, and he couldn’t have that. But Darkstar warned him that changing the names might render these people useless, as they would have a very tentative hold on their identities in the first place. Ofdensen considered this. Perhaps merely translating the last name into English be acceptable? What was the English for that anyway? Darkstar thought that might work, or at least should. And Krigtann could best be translated as “Wartooth”. Toki Wartooth... that sounded good, yes that would work.

He would need some of his memories, in order to be functional. For this, he would have to see his parents. This would give him some background, and some sense of self. Ofdensen questioned if he be able to remember his wife and children, but Darkstar said no. Not unless he was shown them, and that would only complicate things. He would likely still miss them, but not be able to remember what he was missing, like a hole that could and would never be filled. However, all this would stunt his mental age, cutting off his memories and development at the point when he still lived with his parents, a young man. The strong adult Toki would likely be lost forever. Also, due to the circumstances of his death, he might very well be mentally unstable, or even psychotic. Ofdensen thought he could work around all this, as long the oddly powerful talent was intact. It was uncertain if he would be able to speak, but Darkstar seemed hopeful.

As his parents would only be used to bring back Toki, Ofdensen found it unimportant to give them life of any real quality. Darkstar predicted they’d mostly likely be somewhat zombie-like, and probably unable to speak. Also, they could only be resurrected at the age they died, which would be confusing to Toki but couldn’t be helped. And so Anja and Aslaug Wartooth came into being, and were placed in their old home which just happened to be vacant. They were quiet people, so the villagers paid them little mind. It was decided to let them simply linger on until they once again died.

Now, as carefully and thoroughly as he could, Darkstar resurrected Toki. Ofdensen watched in wonder, hoping enough remained for this one to be what he had been searching for. And then, there before him was Toki, looking completely confused and clearly having no idea who or where he was. Darkstar led him into his parents house. He stared at them in bewildered confusion, he knew these were his parents, but they were very changed, and they were _old_. As Darkstar has predicted, this new image of them overwrote what few memories their presence dragged up, leaving him with confusing images of a young boy being beaten by these old people. He was shaking. Darkstar, sensing the coming overload, got him out of there and to the location Ofdensen had chosen.

It was a small apartment, with no windows and a strong door. Ofdensen was there, with a translator, waiting to meet the man. Darkstar delivered him, than departed. Toki stood looking around him. He’s never seen electric lights, or many of the other things that now surrounded him. Ofdensen, speaking through the translator, greeted him. “Hi, my name is Charles Ofdensen. I brought you here because I want you to come play music for my band.” Toki looked at him blankly. Ofdensen sighed, wondering where to start. “Your name is Toki Wartooth, do you remember that?” No response. This man was practically catatonic, maybe it had all been for nothing, all in vain. While he was thinking, he unwrapped a peppermint and popped it in his mouth. He noticed Toki suddenly paying attention, so he offered him one. It was accepted. He took him a minute to figure out the wrapper, but got it. When he put the candy in his mouth, he smiled faintly at the taste. 

Well hell, the man had probably never had candy in his life. Ofdensen sent one of his security men out to buy an assortment, anything that might help. He motioned Toki to the corner where a guitar and amp sat waiting. Of course he’d never seen an electric guitar, or likely any guitar at all, but the legends said he could play anything he was given. Ofdensen, making sure Toki was watching, picked it up and turned it on. Wishing he could actually really play something, he clumsily ran a few scales. Toki was staring, entranced. When offered, he took the guitar. Ofdensen waited, barely daring to breathe.

Toki plucked a few strings experimentally, then slowly began to play. Ofdensen stood spellbound, in shock, there was so much more power here than he’d even hoped to dream of. Oh yes it had all been worth it, even if Toki could never speak. He’d found his rhythm guitarist, and the powerful force that would take Dethklok to the top and beyond anyone’s dreams. Toki was lost in his music. Ofdensen, still reeling, quietly left him alone, making sure to leave the candy. Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk some more.

Ofdensen had provided Toki with a television, using a satellite link to get American broadcasting. This would probably be the easiest way for Toki to learn English, as he was instantly captivated by the images on the screen. And it was working. Although he was still using the translator, he’d noticed Toki would sometimes respond before the translation was complete. He still didn’t speak, but would nod his head in reply. 

As an experiment, Ofdensen produced a Dethklok recording and played it. Toki stood frozen in shock. This was way beyond the realm of his experience. He listened carefully. When it was over, Ofdensen watched as he picked up his guitar and played the song, copying Skwisgaar’s complex melodies effortlessly. It was Ofdensen turn to listen in shock, not daring to believe what he was hearing. He was playing it flawlessly, and Skwisgaar was the fastest guitarist alive. Okay, Skwisgaar could _NOT_ find out about this. 

A few weeks later, they’d done away with the translator. Toki seemed to understand English fairly well at this point. It was becoming time to take him home, he couldn’t leave the boys on their own much longer. If only Toki would speak, it would make his job so much easier. Ofdensen was nothing if not persistent. “Toki, you’re really going to have to talk. Please, talk to me.” Nothing. Deciding to try a psychological button, he pressed on. “Toki, I want to take you back with me to play in my band, but if you won’t talk I may have to just leave you here with your parents.” Finally, a response. Only one word, but spoken in such a cold and dangerous tone. “Noes.” Ofdensen, remembering what Darkstar had warned about potential psychotic breaks, quickly went on. “It’s okay Toki, you’re going with me. Don’t worry.” The reassurance seemed to work, the cold fury was draining from his face. Ofdensen threw him a candy just to be safe, like you would throw a treat to a vicious dog hoping to appease it. 

As he got used to modern day life, (well, through the television anyway) Toki ws becoming more cheerful. He was speaking now, and although his English was still quite bad, it was generally understandable. “Toki, I’m making the arrangements. We’re going to go home tomorrow. Do you understand?” “Ja. Where is homes?” “In America, I told you about this. A place called Mordland.” “Okays.” Ofdensen produced a camera, he needed a photo for the documents he was having made. Not wanting to get into another long explanation, he just snapped a quick photo and then put it away. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Toki.”

Ofdensen went to get papers. He gave them the photo, but they still needed a birthday. He was having trouble deciding what age to use. His real birth date was not an option, even if it could be found. Going by the legends, Toki was likely in his 30's, although could definitely pass for younger. Oh well, it didn’t really matter, nobody would ever see these again anyway. He picked a date just to be done with it. Pocketing his documents, he pondered just how difficult if might be to get Toki on an airplane. He decided to cheat.

 

After eating the tranquilizer laced candy, Toki dozed the whole way home. Ofdensen had a Klokateer carry him up to the small bedroom he’s chosen, hoping it would be satisfactory. After reassuring himself that Toki was still sleeping, he called a band meeting to tell the boys his good news. “Guys, as you know I’ve been searching for a suitable rhythm guitarist.” “Pfft, I don’t knoes why we’s be needing two guitars.” Ofdensen ignored him, they’d been over that countless times before. “I found him in a little village in Norway. His name is Toki Wartooth. We’ll all meet in the studio tomorrow so you can try playing with him, I think you’ll be surprised.” 

They met in the studio, Toki suddenly shy and unsure as he looked upon his new band mates. Ofdensen had warned him not to show off, that the others wouldn’t like it. Still, as he spied his guitar in the corner, he just had to play. He picked it up and ran off one of Skwisgaar’s solos as they all stared in awe. Skwisgaar looked pissed, and immediately started throwing insults. Toki looked at him in confusion, and Ofdensen quickly intervened. “Okay guys, why don’t you all play together now?” They took their positions and started to play. The difference was incredible. There was a fullness to the music that they’d been lacking, and the song, while still totally brutal, was now completely enchanting. As it came to an end, they all stared at each other in shock. Pickles came out and clapped Toki on the back, grinning. Ofdensen smiled.


End file.
